Matters of trust – In seven parts
Kisses are mere manifestations of building trust between two people. Trust takes time, and kisses come slowly to those who are broken.
(Part one, Part two, Part three)
Part four – An undisciplined kiss
The fourth kiss is a rising passion and kinship that leads nowhere.
On any given day in the absence of a weather forecast, you never know which way the wind will turn. Today it blew from the south west. A storm brewed above, signaling an increase in rads and a faint green glow shimmered across the horizon. Mitch stood on the deck of the Prydwen, in front of Elder Maxson and a handful of other soldiers. It was bitterly cold despite it being well into spring, but Mitch didn’t feel it. A week ago he reached the Institute, the boy behind glass though wasn’t his son, it was only when ‘Father’ stared into his eyes that Mitch knew, for it was his face, his eyes, reflected in a sixty year old man. He didn’t move when Maxson dismissed the group. Instead he remained until all had left and the wind changed direction. Back in Danse’s quarters he sat and watched as the Paladin packed his bags. “You’re ready to do this, then?” Danse asked. Mitch gulped and shook his head. He knew the task. He was to be the betrayer of trust in this instance. Giving up the Railroad Headquarters was never going to be easy but Maxson had wrested this from him and when Mitch learned the reason why he was horrified. He’d spent little time with them, but these were just the little guys helping the little guys. Mitch was always about the little guys. “I’m going to sit this one out,” Mitch said. “I know it’s the coward’s way, but I can’t face them.” “You can’t. Elder Maxson gave an order, the Sentinel co-signed it. Are you going to disobey an order, Knight MacGyver?”
And there it was, Mitch thought, that incredulous tone Danse carried whenever Mitch told him he’s was going to do something Danse didn’t approve of or like. The man should have know him by now, if Mitch MacGyver has a way out of a situation, he’ll take it. “I’ll do more than that.” Mitch lifted his pipboy and pressed on the transporter button to take him back to the Institute.
There’s bar near Boston Airport where Mitch used to frequent before the war. It was the kind of place that if you were a regular and you paid your tab in a timely manner, it was as though you were returning to your own living room. Deep club lounge chairs, a pool table and jukebox with nothing too modern on it—crooners and jazz singers. If you wanted a drink and it was busy, you could walk behind the bar and retrieve it yourself, no questions asked.
This is where Danse found him, sitting at the bar and listening to a whining jukebox, a bottle of scotch in his hand.
Mitch didn’t turn his head when Danse entered.
“I thought I’d find you here, this is— becoming a pattern,” he said.
“I should get an unlisted number. Maxson send you?” Mitch said and took a swig and dropped the empty bottle at his feet.
“I made an excuse for you, told him you had a lead on the Institute.”
Mitch turned and stared at him. “Why would you do that? You play by the book, you don’t lie, you chastise me every chance you get when I fall out of line.”
Danse looked down and away from Mitch’s gaze and kicked the empty bottle away. “I see what’s going on with you, what you’ve told me sounds like a nightmare. And I didn’t lie. You went to the Institute didn’t you?”
“And you went to kill a bunch of people that I betrayed.”
Danse looked up and crossed his arms. “There was no one there. No tech, some trace stuff, but nothing of value and no leads as to where they’d gone. You wouldn’t know anything about that would you?”
He turned back to the bar with a smirk across his lips. “Nope.”
Danse walked over and sat next to him. “MacGyver, you’re playing a dangerous game.”
Mitch swiveled his seat to face him. “Being scared of anyone who runs free seems like a whole waste of time. How is it dangerous to not want conflict? To look for a way out of this goddamn mess and where more people don’t lose their lives. Feels like the opposite of dangerous to me.”
“You can’t go AWOL again, I can’t cover for you.”
He tilted his head. “Why did you this time?”
Danse remained quiet.
“I tell you why then,” Mitch said and pointed at him. “You’re finally coming around. Learning to relax, see the world through other people’s eyes. People other than Elder Maxson and those buttoned up Brotherhood types.” Mitch could see he’d hit a nerve when Danse rubbed at his throat and a nervous tick twitched at the corner of his mouth. He leaned in close enough to hear Danse’s breath quicken and his own pulse raced in response. “Admit it Paladin, you think what I say has merit. That violence isn't always the answer. We’re a team and like a good team, we think alike, that’s how we hit home runs—a winning combination of moves.”
Danse gave a huff of a laugh. “You’re going to drag me from one disaster to another, MacGyver. Aren’t you?”
“One in, all in, Danse.” Mitch reached up and placed a hand on his shoulder, butting his forehead against Danse’s. The Paladin didn’t back away. “Give me some time, I’ll get there, I’ve just-- got a few things to sort out. I’ll step in line.”
“Somehow I doubt it, Knight,” he said.
Mitch ran his finger along the deep scar that graced one side of Danse’s face. “Some scars take time to heal. Some scars you can’t see. Give me time.”
To Mitch’s surprise Danse’s pressed his lips to Mitch’s, hurried and stiff as though someone might see them.
Mitch responded by putting his hand on Danse’s neck and squeezing the muscle. Danse softened and leaned in to him but Mitch broke from the kiss and placed his palms on either side of Danse’s head, stared into his eyes and pulled him in for an intense and passionate kiss. He wanted to draw Danse closer but the bar stools made for an awkward slant into one another. Danse’s hands flailed and then rested on Mitch’s knees. Mitch felt the tingle of Danse’s stubble and the salty taste of sweat on his upper lip mingled with aftertaste of the scotch.
When they finally broke, Danse’s cheeks were flushed and a dazed smile sat across his features. “I should get back to the Prydwen. When will you return?”
“Give me a day or two. Back on duty and ready to wreak havoc on the Commonwealth once again.” He sighed and gave him a large grin.
Danse stood, pursed his lips and nodded. “Are you sure?”
"Only a fool is sure of anything, a wise man keeps on guessing." Mitch gave a mock salute.
He shook his head. “What does that even mean in this context, MacGyver?”
Mitch shrugged. “I don’t know, I read it on the back of a cigarette pack once, seemed fitting.”
Danse appeared on the verge of replying, but instead he turned and walked towards the exit and out the door.
Mitch gestured to the skeleton on the other side of the bar. “Fill 'er up, Glen, looks like I lucked out tonight.”
